I met her when I first became pastor at Calvary Baptist Church in Weimar. She was only 3 years old when her big sister Haley, her mom Cathy and her stepdad Marc joined the church.

With blonde pigtails and a pretty dress, she danced around the church when she wasn’t mimicking everything her big sister Haley did. She was somewhat quiet at first, but her mom’s wonderful outgoing personality one day would be shared by her.

Perhaps the first words I ever heard her speak came in a song. The church started with eight people. Her grandmother Hurma was one of the church’s first and most devoted members. Hurma truly served as the righteous matriarch of the family—always serving others, always drawing people to the Lord starting with her own family first. And Ms. Hurma continues to bless me to this day.

The church first met in a living room of a house they rented. Again, with eight people, the little four-room house had plenty of room. The church quickly outgrew that space, and we moved into the caterer’s event hall adjacent to the house. The landlord owned both, so the move was easy. It was in this caterer’s event hall where I remember first hearing Hanna.

Hanna’s solo

The hall had one big room with a kitchen. The way we set up the worship area, all the chairs faced the pulpit. At the back, behind the chairs was the restroom.

In the middle of my sermon, and it wasn’t that long of a sermon, little Hanna needed to go to the restroom, or she needed a break from the message—not sure which. Anyway, she slipped into the restroom quietly while all eyes were on me, ears on the text from God’s word.

Suddenly, we began to hear the singing of a little girl. Everyone looked around, but no girl seen was saying a word, much less singing. Yet, the voice of a little girl singing was clearly heard. Were angels in our midst? I hoped so, but they weren’t the ones singing.

The singing continued. By this time, no one was listening to the preacher or my preaching. Everyone was looking around, smiling, chuckling nervously, trying to figure out where the singing was coming from.

Finally, Cathy, Hanna’s mom got up from her chair. She walked back to the restroom at the back of the room. It was then we knew.

Hanna, the quiet girl, thinking no one was around or listening, was serenading the whole church with her sweet little voice.

Everyone began to laugh. Hanna walked out from the restroom, completely silent, oblivious to the fact all had heard her first live concert—not from a shower, but from the toilet.

Hanna then and now

Hanna was around 4 or 5 then. Now she is in her late 20s. She is engaged to be married to a kind, handsome young man named Trevor.

A few months back, they got serious about the Lord. They received him fully as their savior and have not stopped there. They now are serving the Lord faithfully.

They study and pray together daily. They have started a family Bible study with their siblings and relatives. They are active in their new church home near New Braunfels. But they want to do more. They want to tell their coworkers about the Lord Jesus.

So, what did they do? They bought these little figurines of Jesus. They use them to witness to others. They sometimes ask people, as they present the figurine, “Would you like a little Jesus today?”

Or, if they see someone sad or hurting, they hand them one of the figurines and say, “I thought you might need a little Jesus today.”

They do not stop there. Depending on the person’s response, Hanna or Trevor tell them about what the living Lord Jesus has done in their lives, and they ask them if they would like to invite the real Jesus into their hearts too.

The response has been overwhelming as the Lord has been faithful to lead them to those empty, lost and hurting.

Hanna’s name means “gracious.” She is gracious to others, for she has received the grace God gives. Her life and Trevor’s are heading in the right direction.

Would you like a little Jesus in your life too? Ask him in. He can hear your gentle call like we heard 3-year-old Hanna’s song years ago.

Johnny Teague is the senior pastor of Church at the Cross in West Houston and the author of several books, including his newest The Lost Diary of Mary Magdalene. His website is johnnyteague.com. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

Daily, we weigh values and prioritize actions. Our Christian faith, the call of God on our lives, guides us. It is not a spectator sport.

Recently, I have toggled back and forth at the Texas Legislature and can see what values are resting on the scales held by state decision-makers. Legislators seriously consider dozens of bills. It is mind-boggling and, like a mirror, reflective of our state.

Bills considered by legislators

Within a few hours, they considered the following.

HB 126

House Bill 126 would have allowed state universities to contract with youngsters as young as 8th grade for their commitment to play sports at said university. The contract—with parental consent—is for money, direct payments, to be made to them once they are enrolled in the university.

People asked: It may be good for sports programs, but is it good for kids?

Supporters say: Texas needs to keep up with other states who recruit this way.

The motion was withdrawn May 25.

SB 646

Senate Bill 646 proposes expansion to a long-standing loan repayment program to help with critical work shortages, adding school counselors and school psychologists to loan repayment in Texas.

This became controversial because, as I have heard, some describe many school counselors as “bad actors who are socially transitioning students, [and] we shouldn’t support them (the profession) with loan repayment.” During floor debate, Rep. Nate Schatzline noted the Texas GOP platform is firmly against loan repayment.

People asked: Is this a fair criticism and punishment of the school counseling profession?

Supporters say: The need is urgent. Counselor ratios are 1 to 395 students.

SB 646 passed the second reading in the Texas House May 27 and awaits third reading.

SB 1261

Senate Bill 1261, a comprehensive water projects bill, was challenged with an amendment by East Texas leaders to remove a major reservoir from the plans. The lake would use imminent domain to take 70,000 acres of private land from East Texans and provide water to the metroplex.

People asked: Should one area of the state sacrifice for another and give up generations of farms?

Supporters say: Texans need water. East Texas has land.

SB 1261 was sent to Gov. Abbott on May 22.

Everyday faith

Mostly, I can coast along and never really confront thorny questions and issues of major consequence until I see it on display firsthand. It is not a bad exercise for Christian thinkers.

I am reminded of the Book of Esther, and Esther’s dilemma to ask a king for a risky favor.

Will Willimon in his sermon “Unspectacular Faith” has this reflection on her struggle: “What Esther did was not particularly spectacular, but that’s good, because most of us are not spectacular. Fortunately, most of the good that God needs doing in this world is not spectacular.”

“Now, someday,” Willimon continued, “there may be somebody here who is required to die for the faith that you profess, but not likely. More likely, you will be given the opportunity, or the dilemma, of summoning up the courage to speak out … at some elegant dinner party or maybe at some business meeting … to put up a good word to the boss in behalf of somebody who doesn’t have the voice to speak. Not large. Not grand. Not spectacular. But good.”

Weighing our part

As Christians, we live in a world that, on the whole, neither worships nor obeys our God. In such a climate, we are tempted to let ourselves off the hook too easily, to say: “I’m no martyr. I’m just one person. What can I do?”

Each Gospel account shows Jesus, when instructing the disciples, drawing them into the importance of their words and actions. In little ordinary ways, the kingdom of God is being defeated or advanced through us.

We are weighing values and seeking solutions. Are they reflections of our discipleship? Our words are important—even words to elected officials, work colleagues and opponents of our opinions, who also are weighing values and seeking solutions.

It’s a challenge to weigh in, but in God’s hands, big things happen as a result of our small investments.

Suzii Paynter March is a leader in Christian ethics, having served as director of Texas Baptists’ Christian Life Commission and other organizations. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

The late Tim Keller was arguably the most influential evangelical pastor of his day.

He founded Redeemer Church in New York City, started the City to City church planting network (which is now starting churches in global cities around the world), created The Gospel Coalition, and wrote multiple bestselling books relating faith to life.

He wrote a church manual called Center Church that deeply influenced the way I think about ministry in a city as diverse and complex as Houston.

And he also popularized—in certain evangelical circles—a way of thinking about church/political engagement called The Third Way.

To be clear, plenty of other theological tribes employed Third Way thinking prior to Keller. Keller was simply the popularizer among evangelicals with a particular theological bent.

Further: I am not referring here to the attempt to synthesize center-right and center-left ideas into policy. I’m speaking about a specifically theological stance.

The Third Way, for our purposes here, means the church approaching the government and politics without adhering exclusively to the right or the left and instead preserving a unique way for approaching issues in government.

This different approach is neither right nor left but a Third Way—an attempt to embody the kingdom values Jesus taught.

‘Only possible faithful path’

I believe the Third Way—or Kingdom Way—is the only possible faithful path for pastors and church leaders in the public square.

My reasoning is simple: If I always side with the right or always side with the left on issues, then I lose my credibility.

As a pastor, my job isn’t to speak primarily about politics, but when politics and theology intersect, I want to be able honestly and faithfully to take folks to the text and help form a scriptural response to whatever the issue at hand may be.

If I hold fast to Third Way thinking, I can avoid having my policies formed primarily by pundits, but can instead have it formed (hopefully) by Jesus.

An example of Third Way thinking

Since the Republican Party is currently in power, and since most of the folks in my theological tribe tend to be conservative, let’s talk about that particular perspective for a moment. I myself registered as a Republican when I was 18 years old.

That being said, my first calling is that of a Christian pastor, which means I have an obligation to stand up for the rights of the poor and those who do not have a voice.

The Republicans in my state have refused to fully fund the public schools (despite having a constitutional obligation to do so) since 2019 while helping (predominantly) wealthy families by allowing a stipend to fund private school education.

This policy decision disproportionately affects the poorest kids in my city and state. As a result, I’ve spoken out on it. This is my Christian duty.

I feel the same about Afghan Christians being forced to self-deport back to a country where they will be tortured, raped and killed. Or about a federal budget proposal that provides tax cuts for the wealthiest citizens while cutting Medicaid. Or about our government not pressuring Israel to allow humanitarian aid into Gaza.

You get the point.

Why I take these stances

These are not stances I take because I have decided to become a dyed-in-the-wool leftist Democrat. These are stances I take because I am a Christian. I’m commanded to care for and speak up for the poor, so I do.

To be clear, there are plenty of things I also criticize on the left based on my understanding of what the New Testament teaches. For example: Refusal to place any sort of boundaries around abortion access, ignoring recent European studies on the long-term effects of gender-based medical procedures for minors, and more.

That’s what Third Way thinking requires—the ability to speak to issues on both sides. If the church is to be the “conscience of the state” as Martin Luther King Jr. famously said, then we must not feel the pressure always to defend the right nor the left. We instead simply must speak the Christian position.

Avoid being a ‘partisan prop’

As our national politics and attitude has shifted rightward since 2016, there are a growing group of pastors who argue Christians must be completely sold out for Republicans.

Echoing arguments from evangelicalism of the Jerry Falwell days of the 1980s and 1990s, they say this is a battle between good and evil, right and wrong. The only way to be faithful, they argue, is to lean hard to the right—accusations of partisanship be damned.

On one hand, they have a point: There are plenty of issues of right and wrong, good and evil. We absolutely should confront those.

But what happens when the very politicians they—or we—stumped for during election season start doing things themselves that are unethical or downright evil?

As you might imagine, most of those who have been the most vocal go silent on that front. That’s the problem with becoming a partisan pastor. If I cannot speak prophetically to my own party—to the politicians I voted for or preferred—then I have lost the mantle of pastor and have become simply a partisan prop.

‘Not neutral in the least’

The Third Way doesn’t prevent us from voting or supporting a candidate. Far from it. All Americans should participate in the public square.

But the Third Way does demand that those of us who call ourselves Christians—particularly those of us who call ourselves pastors—tell the truth, even when it will be unpopular—even when it may cost us political favor.

I must not fear losing access. I must speak simply what I believe Jesus teaches in the New Testament in a way that brings it to bear on the public square. That’s Third Way thinking.

Some have accused proponents of Third Way thinking of attempting to be neutral. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Third Way thinking is not neutral in the least. It is doggedly faithful to Jesus. It is an attempt to uphold the way of Jesus in the public square—whether or not that way “wins.” In fact, I would argue the Third Way frees us to be morevocal, as we do not feel beholden to any particular politician or party.

The Third Way is not neutral, but it is an equal opportunity offender. It will show the shortcomings of both American political parties or the politics of wherever you may be.

For my part, I’d rather be independent, anyway. Hitching my wagon to the politically independent way of Jesus is way more freeing than anything the traditional political realm ever could provide.

Not neutral. But independent. In Jesus’ kingdom way.

Steve Bezner, after years as a pastor, is associate professor of pastoral ministry and theology at Baylor University’s Truett Theological Seminary. He is the author of Your Jesus Is Too American: Calling the Church to Reclaim Kingdom Values over the American Dream and publishes on Substack, where this article first appeared and is adapted and republished by permission. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

“When John, who was in prison, heard about the deeds of the Messiah, he sent his disciples to ask him, ‘Are you the one who is to come, or should we expect someone else?’” (Matthew 11:2-3; See also Luke 7:20).

Is John’s question about Jesus meant to affirm our own doubts, or is there more to it?

According to John 1:29, John the Baptist knew Jesus’ identity: “The next day, John saw Jesus coming toward him and said, ‘Look, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!’”

So, why does John send his disciples to ask Jesus if he is the one or if they should wait for another?

Interpretations

Some Christians respond that John, like Peter or Thomas, had little faith and doubted, or that John’s imprisonment caused him to doubt his own role as the forerunner of the Messiah.

One writer suggests: “It was either a moment of weakness (not an outright retraction or denial of Christ) for the imprisoned John or, perhaps knowing his death was imminent, John wanted his disciples to encounter Jesus personally in the hopes that they would follow him.”

Shelby Abbot writes: “If I’m honest, though, I’m comforted by his doubt. Why? Because if he could doubt and admit it plainly—to the point that it’s recorded in Holy Scripture—surely, I have liberty to doubt and be candid about it, too.”

St. Frances de Sales claimed: “The glorious St. John the Baptist did not send his disciples to Jesus our Lord to find out whether or not he was the Messiah.

“He had three reasons: first, to make him known to the whole world. Second, he wanted to draw disciples only to his teacher, to whose school he now sends them to be instructed personally by him. Third, to detach them from himself and let them see Jesus so that they might come to him in a manner worthy of him. Therefore, John sent them to this Divine Majesty.”

Do these different responses answer John’s question? Sometimes, we need to look outside the biblical account and view it from a historical-cultural context.

The broader context

It is possible John was not doubting Jesus but was confirming the writings of another Jewish group that claimed the coming of two or even three messiahs. These writings were discovered in an area known as the Qumran Community in 1947 and are known today as the Dead Sea Scrolls.

Found among these writings from 3 B.C. to A.D. 1, the Manual of Discipline, or The Community Rule, describes messianic figures: “until there should come the Prophet and the Messiahs of Aaron and Israel.”

The key word is ‘the’ prophet. That is important, because the ruling Levites and priests asked John if he was the messiah or Elijah, which he denied (John 1:21). They asked John, “Are you ‘the’ prophet?” He said ‘no.’

These Levites and priests knew of a coming prophet “separate from the habitation of ungodly men and shall go into the wilderness to prepare there, the way of him, as it is written, prepare in the wilderness the way … make straight in the desert a path for our God” (Geza Vermes, The Dead Sea Scrolls in English, Penguin, 1962).

John 1:23 describes John as one calling in the wilderness.

It is possible John was a member of the Qumran Community, which lived in the wilderness east of Jerusalem near the Dead Sea.

“And the child grew and became strong in spirit, and he lived in the wilderness until he appeared publicly to Israel” (Luke 1:80). John lived in the wilderness until he appeared publicly.

Meanwhile, “other Dead Sea Scroll texts … argue for a definite expectation of two messiahs at Qumran understand[ing] the Messiah of Aaron and Israel as two distinct figures.”

The Qumran Community writings align with the biblical account about John rather than the claim John doubted, which does not align with John’s character.

If one was not aware of the Qumran Community and their teachings, then the options are to accept John doubted and had little faith, or John’s disciples were to follow Jesus now. These views are acceptable responses, but they do not answer John’s question about Jesus being the One. If they were to wait for another, then who? Is it the Holy Spirit? Is it another Messiah?

Jesus’ answer

Jesus answered John’s disciples: “Go back and report to John what you have seen and heard: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is proclaimed to the poor” (Luke 7:22).

Jesus did answer John’s question. But John’s imprisonment and beheading would not have changed anyway. Perhaps John’s confusion was about why he was still in prison if the Messiah was to free the captives, as Isaiah 61 mentions.

John should have made the connection from biblical and nonbiblical writings and perhaps realized Jesus was the One, and that John’s death would fulfill how John would decrease for Jesus to increase.

Cristian Cervantes is a biblical instructor at First Baptist Church in San Antonio and an elementary substitute teacher for San Antonio Independent School District. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

Diversity and many of its associated issues are being criticized unfairly these days. There seems to be confusion about its value and purpose.

Underlying agendas and political viewpoints have charged diversity with multiple touchpoints, and now the word seems explosive. This is unfortunate, because God created a diverse world, full of color and differences that make life varied and beautiful.

So, why all the disagreement and fuss over diversity?

I think one reason is a natural tendency for humankind to fear the unknown and what is different. Racial discrimination, xenophobia and other negative issues relating to people of color mostly stem from fear.

Many cannot admit to this truth readily, but the reality remains: We fear what we do not know or what is different from ourselves.

Cultural diversity leaves many with an unknown understanding of cultural customs, norms, values and practices. Misjudgments are made about people from diverse backgrounds, and then stereotypes are formed and upheld. Within these shadows of fear about diversity, hatred and bigotry grow.

Misinterpretations about diversity and the resulting negative thoughts that sometimes follow can be expected from the unchurched. However, some of these assumptions also occur within the church and are incompatible with God’s perspective on diversity, which is a unity across diversity.

Diversity from God’s perspective

Approximately 169 languages are spoken in Texas. We are a diverse state. As we consider our ethnic, social and economic backgrounds, diversity looms large in Texas, which, in my opinion, is an incredible landscape.

Although our population is diverse, we are unified in this truth: We all are created in the image of God.

Genesis 1 describes Elohim’s desire to create unity through diversity, and one singular truth that unites us all, despite our different cultural customs, languages and food is the imago Dei. We all are created with an ability to know God and to be known by him. What an amazing perspective!

Truly to witness and appreciate God’s perspective on diversity, one must view it from Genesis and Revelation.

As the biblical narrative shifts to Revelation, John records a vision while exiled on the island of Patmos. In Revelation 7, he describes a vivid picture of believers in Jesus who come from “every nation, tribe, people and language.” Still, they all unite for the same purpose—to worship Jesus.

How will a diverse group of disciples unite in heaven without ministers and churches competent and confident in their ability to encounter a multicultural world and win many for Christ?

It will take a unique minister skilled with an exceptional understanding to engage a diverse world for Christ and allow them to know they have a place of belonging in the kingdom of God.

Diversity and theological education

And yet, some ministers are not as prepared as they should be to minister to a diverse, cross-cultural community. Some blame could lie with the minister, yet others could lie in the seminary or university that prepared them for ministry.

Therefore, as Christian educators, we must take to heart the challenge of preparing our men and women pursuing ministry to become prepared for cultural diversity.

Christian educators must remove, as best they can, the fear of the unknown about cultural diversity within ministry and encourage these students to engage in experiences within cultural diversity, so this type of ministry is something they no longer might fear, but welcome and even grow in competency.

Ignorance about diversity no longer will be bliss for these ministers or churches. A modern minister must be prepared competently to encounter a changing demographic. These pastors also will have to guide their churches to view diversity within the biblical perspective set forth through Scripture. In this endeavor, the church will be prepared truly to love their neighbors.

The ministers must be ready to handle the word of God and make it culturally adaptable to a diverse population. These types of ministry skills very much are in demand. Those who graduate from seminaries focusing on the beauty of diversity biblically will instill that value and prepare their graduates to be effective in our changing, diverse landscape.

How will we get there?

To produce culturally competent ministers ready for a diverse ministry field, seminaries must do a better job of having a diverse faculty. Seminaries are enriched when their faculty includes people of color, men and women devoted to preparing the next generations of ministers.

My experience has been seminaries too often are less diverse in their faculty, limiting their students from appreciating professors from different backgrounds who can bring a unique perspective to the classroom.

I witnessed this power of diversity during my Ph.D. studies in Southern California. Through this personal educational experience, my commitment to diversity has become an individual value.

When the seminary I currently serve approached me about joining them, I was excited about joining an institution that shared my values about diversity within its walls. We are reaping the benefits of that dedicated focus.

Second, we must value the voices of seminary students of color. Many come from a unique cultural perspective that enhances a seminary classroom and better prepares future ministers by hearing and appreciating perspectives outside their cultural norms.

Seminarians need to stretch their minds and have their perspectives challenged from a biblical perspective. The seminary class I taught this semester was vastly diverse. In my class, there were students from Uganda and Kenya, and a Latina, to name a few.

Our class discussions were incredible and enriching. We all walked away from that learning experience better prepared as ministers, and our appreciation for another’s perspective was a learning outcome that will go beyond the classroom.

In this, we further God’s desire for diversity by preparing ministers to engage a diverse world competently for the kingdom of God as they lead churches who welcome and allow all to belong and thrive.

Dr. Joe Rangel is the director of Truett Seminary in San Antonio, an extension of Baylor University’s Truett Theological Seminary.

It is that time again when hundreds of thousands of us can’t get the sounds of “Pomp and Circumstance” out of our heads, often whistling or humming the melody, not even wondering why.

For the curious—and others in the majority who couldn’t care less—Englishman Edward Elgar’s 1901 march long has been the musical gold standard for graduation music. For a century, graduates have marched in and out to this tune—part and parcel—while nervously accepting certificates and diplomas.

Memory runneth not to the contrary in recounting hundreds of smile-producing ceremonial “foul-ups.” Many smiles are forced these days as elected governmental leaders repeatedly throw public school educators under the bus, painting with brushes far too wide. We’ll try to smile anyway, promising to dissect educational funding as best we can later.

Now, let the pratfalls begin.

Spell check

A proud graduate of my alma mater Howard Payne University leads the way. In no way comparable academically to David Cozart, I cracked a few books during my five undergraduate years. He devoured them—books, that is.

A quarter century later, I somehow wore HPU presidential trappings for a dozen years, knowing my 2.8 GPA fell well below those of most graduates receiving diplomas. Goodness’ sake, Cozart’s transcript sparkles with all As, except for two Bs that may have been the result of a couple of professors getting on the wrong lines in their grade books.

I digress.

A highly respected minister since his teens, David is executive pastor of Waco’s Meadowbrook Baptist Church. He also has survived cancer and, like the rest of us, relies too often on spell check.

Recently, he posted on Facebook what was to have been an instructive message for HPU graduates. He wanted them to “fly high,” warning them of inevitable encounters with the shock and awe of adulthood and so forth.

Instead, Rev. Cozart trotted out the old line about the sun never setting on HPU graduates. Except, one letter fouled up his encouraging message for seniors ready for the on-ramp of life’s highway. Truly, Cozart no doubt meant well.

With an “i” typed instead of a “u” between the “s” and the “n,” the post became “the ‘sin’ never sets on HPU graduates.”

Memories

On a serious note, I remember David well. He received one of only two presidential citations awarded during my dozen years in the HPU presidency some 30 years ago.

I recall the party held for him to celebrate his “cancer freedom” when he was just 22. It was wintertime. Invitees were asked to wear toboggans so David, devoid of hair due to cancer treatment, could feel more comfortable.

Unable to attend the Waco event, I forwarded a video to be viewed at the party—wearing a toboggan, as instructed. I found a scraggly headpiece at Goodwill, plopping it on my head as the camera rolled. Out of sight, out of mind.

Alas, the party was postponed until a much warmer day. Friends gathered to celebrate, dressed in spring attire. The only toboggan in sight was atop my head in the video.

Ah, memories are made of this. As my wife of 58 years and I deal with twilight years, efforts are made to avoid pitfalls. For example, I regularly correct spell check’s insistence to spell “Burleson,” where we reside. Spell check thinks “burlesque” is a better choice.

As an end line, I join Cozart in urging graduates everywhere to march on with Christian confidence, admittedly praying specifically for grandchildren Addison McDaniel and Kedren Penney, who already have made us proud. May their pilgrimage starting this fall at Howard Payne be fruitful. Mimi and Poppy think they’ll do well.

Don Newbury, retired president of Howard Payne University, writes weekly and speaks regularly. This article is adapted from his regular column, ‘The Idle American.’ Newbury can be contacted via email: newbury@speakerdoc.com; phone: (817) 447-3872; Twitter: @donnewbury and Facebook: Don Newbury. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author. Published by permission.

The scene is iconic, and if you’ve seen it, you’ll never forget it.

Woodrow Call, Augustus McRae and their cowhands arrived in Ogallala, Neb., from Lonesome Dove in far South Texas.

Some of the boys went into town for pleasures not available on the trail. Larry McMurtry tells the scene in vivid detail in his Pulitzer Prize-winning novel Lonesome Dove, which became the hit television miniseries. The cowboys were gathered in the street as Dish Boggett brushed his prized horse Sugar.

As the cowboys chatted, a group of soldiers led by an “ungodly big” scout named Dixon approached. Dixon looked at Sugar and demanded Dish turn her over to the U.S. Army. McMurtry narrates the subsequent events in detail, as Dixon spits tobacco on Dish, clubs him with the butt of a pistol and grabs Sugar’s reins to ride off.

Newt, Call’s unclaimed son, intercedes, grabbing Sugar’s bridle, holding him so Dixon can’t ride off.

“These cowboys are pests,” Dixon said. “Even the pups.”

And with that, he grabs a rawhide quirt and proceeds to whip Newt.

Up the street, Call and Gus walked out of the dry goods store. Call jumps on his horse, rides at full speed and knocks Dixon off his mount. What follows is a savage beating of the Army scout by Call, to the point of almost killing him.

When Gus finally ropes Call and pulls him away from the scout, he tells the sergeant watching, “Get your man and go.”

“Reckon he’s dead?” the sergeant asks.

“If he ain’t, he’s lucky,” Gus replies.

Amid the commotion, a crowd of townspeople gathered, staring in disbelief at what they had witnessed.

Feeling he should make some explanation, Call turns to the audience and announces in simple Texan: “I hate a man that talks rude. I won’t tolerate it.”

Rude behavior

I was reminded of Call’s response to rude behavior recently as my wife and I stood in line at a convenience store. A woman buying some cotton candy wrapped inside plastic put it on the counter, and when the clerk picked it up to scan it, she berated him.

“What are you doing?” she asked, with an edge on her voice that could cut meat. “I don’t like anyone touching my food.”

The bewildered clerk informed the customer he had to pick it up to scan it, a response that only brought more derision from the woman, who even accused the mild-mannered gentleman behind the counter of “shouting at me.”

At this point, I’d had enough and leaned forward. But my wife gently grabbed my forearm to keep me from interceding. That’s when I remembered Woodrow Call’s response to rudeness. I’m grateful my wife stopped me.

Finally, the customer took the cotton candy and stormed off to the other side of the store. We stepped up to the counter and did our best to assure the poor clerk the incident wasn’t his fault.

Growing anger

Is it just me, or are people getting angrier? According to the Institute for Crisis Management, which monitors and reports annually on more than 15 categories of crises affecting businesses, evidence points to growing anger.

The Institute for Crisis Management reports dramatic increases in areas such as workplace violence, which in 2019 accounted for 1.6 percent of business crises, but by 2023 had exploded to 9.4 percent.

ICM also reports categories like “hostile” takeovers, CEO firings and class action lawsuits are spiking year over year. And it seems our responses to perceived slights are getting more drastic, leading to school shootings and daily scenes of over-the-top reactions.

If you need more evidence of the anger out there, try driving on any of our freeways in North Texas. That friendly finger wave we’re used to in rural areas means something different in the Metroplex.

A cure for the epidemic

Two days before the convenience store incident I conducted a celebrity interview with Kelsey Grammer—Dr. Frasier Crane—for an audience at a fundraising event. It was one of those structured interviews he’s done dozens of times.

At the end, we did five rapid-fire questions, like who is the most famous person in your cellphone contacts. And this one: “If I were president of the United States, I would …”

A nervous chuckle echoed from the audience as they braced for Grammer’s answer, a reflection of the current political climate in our country where rude behavior and bravado are seen as leadership.

I squirmed waiting for his words, expecting to intervene and defuse the situation. But to the surprise of everyone in the room, Grammer’s response was pure and simple.

“If I were president,” he said with a pause, “I would work to reintroduce kindness to our country. I would do everything I could to make our country kinder and encourage everyone to treat each other with respect and dignity.”

So much for tariffs and trade. Nothing about immigration. Let’s just be nice to each other. I’m not sure kindness and niceness can be legislated, but what if our leaders set the tone and changed the culture in our nation?

Right now, it feels more like public figures are taking the Woodrow Call approach and beating others into submission. Rude behavior and unkind speech have no place in our society, but violent and unchecked responses are just as bad.

Take the lead

I retired in January after 40 years of the daily grind. Meeting after meeting. Tasks with deadlines. Pressure to perform. It’s like being hyped up on steroids all the time. All those things led to impatience with myself and everyone around me. A quick response was easier.

Now that my pace has slowed, I’m finding more time for patience and thinking about my responses. Maybe that’s part of the cure for rudeness. Just stop. Think. Give yourself the gift of a minute before responding.

A good starting place may be with the words of Jesus, who told his followers: “Here’s a simple, rule-of-thumb guide for behavior: Ask yourself what you want people to do for you, then grab the initiative and do it for them” (Matthew 7:13, The Message).

Embedded in Jesus’s words is the key. Let’s see ourselves as initiators of behavior rather than victims who are aggrieved. Take the lead. Just be nice.

Scott Collins is a retired communications professional and former journalist. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

I am grateful for my education at every level. If I were asked to list the most prominent influences in my life, I would list Jesus, my wife Debbie and the blessing of a broad education.

I graduated from Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary during its heyday. However, my seminary experience did not prepare me for the realities of rural ministry.

Unrealistic expectations

I left seminary with unrealistic expectations for myself. Professors encouraged us to translate Hebrew for two hours weekly to keep our skills sharp. We were told to give even more time to the translation of the Greek New Testament.

Young preachers were warned never to stand in the pulpit without an exhaustive exegesis of every text. Any moment not focused on studying was wasted.

In reflection, I think my professors meant well. What they did not realize was students were taking the advice of every professor and creating a composite image impossible to mimic.

It took me years to overcome the guilt that I was not living up to the expectations of a seminary-trained pastor. I later learned not every professor studied every waking moment. One passed away while mowing his lawn.

Rural vs. suburban

My seminary education prepared me to pastor a suburban church in a growing development. The needs of rural and downtown churches somehow were missed.

The demands of time and distance create unique challenges. In rural pastorates, one hospital visit requires a minimum of half a day. Urban hospital visits—with traffic, parking and walking—also require half a day.

Attending local sporting events is equally important to dropping by the nursing home. I could add other pastoral care and administration responsibilities to the list. Time is spread thin.

The most difficult seminary lesson to overcome was church growth expectations. The lesson was, “If a church was not numerically advancing, it was failing.”

That statement sounds true, but the reality is far more nuanced than a simple graph. Within that lesson was the implication growing churches require a constant stream of new construction.

In 1987, I spent a portion of a semester learning how to construct new buildings. I possess knowledge no one in Matador or Muleshoe has asked for. For instance, in 1987, creating a parking garage cost $11,000 per space.

Small town realities

Small towns do not have an endless supply of “prospects.” Most towns have faithful Methodists, Church of Christ, Pentecostals, Catholics, Disciples and Presbyterians supporting their churches. Every town and city has people who resist the Christian faith, and their numbers are growing across society.

Rural churches feel the impact of people on the move. New teachers come to town and, some years, join the church’s life. Some years, they don’t. Occasionally, new members numerically replace the church’s graduating seniors. Some years, they don’t. People tend to retire near their cardiologist.

First Baptist Church Muleshoe desires to be the body of Christ in the area we are serving. We hope to create a welcoming atmosphere with quality worship and a sense of community. We hope we are recognized as a pillar of Christian strength in the community.

If people come to First Baptist Muleshoe, they will not find a choir of 100 chorally trained singers, but a group of folks using their gifts to the best of their ability. They may not see various self-help ministries meeting at convenient times during the week, but we hope they find genuine believers engaged in one another’s lives.

They will find a church involved in local mission efforts assisting people with various needs, all in the name of Christ. Rural churches are places where your acts of service can have immediate and helpful impacts.

Quality relationships

One of the blessings of rural life is the quality of relationships developed over time. People raise families together, travel to sporting events, teach children’s Sunday school, organize meal trains and support one another when difficulties arise.

Acts of evangelism often are created when the church meets an immediate community need. Youth and children’s ministry are done best through shared experiences. They will find a text message concerning a ministry need sent to the deacons creates a swift response.

What the people taught me

My seminary experience taught me how to think theologically and gave me tools for interpreting God’s word responsibly, among many other things. But rural people and pastors taught me how to serve a church according to the rhythms of rural life.

E.A. Day was a deacon at First Baptist Church in Matador who taught me to trust the membership.

As I prepared to serve my first Lord’s Supper, E.A. said: “If you keep your mouth shut, we will teach you to serve the Lord’s Supper. We don’t need another new preacher telling us we don’t know what we are doing.”

I said, “Tell me where to stand.”

E.A. taught me not to steal acts of service from church members: “You preach. I will unlock the doors, make the coffee and clean the coffee urn. Don’t take my chores away.”

He taught me about the pain of divorce. The church has a choice of meeting that pain with judgment or grace. “Grace is better,” he said.

E.A.’s sense of investment enabled him to see the big picture. On one occasion, we served the Lord’s Supper on a weekend when one of our members was hosting a family reunion. We were blessed with a surprise Easter crowd.

Sitting on the platform, I counted noses and realized we were several cups of Welch’s grape juice short. Embarrassment was moments away.

As I passed the trays to the deacons, E.A. leaned forward and said, “There is an extra tray of juice sitting on the table in the hallway.”

He saw what needed to be done and did it.

Now that I think about it, I am unsure how you incorporate those nuggets of wisdom into a seminary curriculum. But I am grateful for people like E.A. Day who filled in the gaps.

Stacy Conner is pastor of First Baptist Church in Muleshoe. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

When I was a baby in 1953, the pediatrician Dr. Benjamin Spock was king. He taught babies should cry through the night until they learn to go to sleep independently. Parents were not to hold and cuddle their babies, as is done today.

I felt both loved and lonely as a young child. My parents had marriage problems and later divorced. So, there was tension, arguing and complaining in the home. I was a very anxious small person, not at all secure emotionally.

I got past these early problems with my mom and came to love and forgive everything in those early years. Our relationship had an amazingly happy ending.

When things started to change

It started in the Baptist Student Union, when I began to walk closely with the Lord and seek the things of God even more than my college studies. I read many Christian authors of the day and went to the “Bill Gothard Institute for Basic Youth Conflicts,” even though it was highly fundamentalist.

We in the University of Texas at Arlington BSU went on a bus to Fort Worth together and sat in a huge convention center to learn the importance of parents and the headship of Christ, then the father, then the mother. We learned the value of authority and the “umbrella of protection” parents offer.

God’s plan in giving my specific mom and dad was no accident. He would build on the foundation of our family, even with divorce. He would redeem and restore all, I gathered and hoped.

New relationships

When my mom and dad remarried to other people, I saw their happiness. That made me happy. Having two families, could be two times the fun—not always, but sometimes. If I looked for good times and love, they were there.

My attitude toward change in the family was very important, as was flexibility in accepting new personalities and new stepsiblings.

By this time, I was married, and Mom and I had a lot in common. We were homemakers and church workers. I was a minister’s wife; she was a deacon’s wife. We focused on our homes, and Mom became the world’s best grandmother.

She would come to our town and stop at Walmart before coming to my house. When she arrived, her trunk was filled with church dresses, socks and tights for her delighted granddaughter. This went on for years.

Mom and I antiqued together. Today, I don’t know what to do with all the items we bought. We laughed together and truly got to know one another as people. We could talk about anything and enjoy lunch at any café in town. She became my best friend.

A hard call

One day, when my daughter was still quite young, I got a phone call: “Ruthie, I need you to be a very big girl,” Mom said. “I have leukemia, but the doctor says there is a lot we can do.”

If I was a “very big girl,” it was an act. My world went dark for a while. I truly was afraid. And stressed because I lived an eight-hour drive from her.

Mother fought bravely, taking oral chemo for almost nine years. She lost her energy and ability to travel, and her husband developed heart failure. So, change came again to our family.

In time, God called my husband Joe to a church near Dallas, so we could be close to our parents. God’s timing was perfect. We never could have planned a ministry change that went so smoothly and allowed me to be with my mom. I am still in awe in of his work and tender care.

Remembering Mom

When mother died, I had gone to Walgreen’s to get some supplies. She passed away right before I reentered her room.

The chaplain was there, and he said, “She has finished her journey.”

All I could think of to say was: “We were ready. She got ready a long time ago.”

Six months later, my stepfather died, and he and Mom were reunited. Joe did both their funerals. How? I don’t know. I was not strong at that time, feeling like I was in a bad dream, yet knowing God was sovereign over all and sufficient in my life.

In time, God brings together all the threads of life—the people, the memories, the victories and hurt. Sometimes, there is a lot of hurt. Often, life has been very unfair. God understands that.

Maybe he takes the threads and weaves a tapestry—a picture that sums up the meaning of our one special life and purpose.

On my tapestry, there must be a beautiful picture of the mother God gave me. I would want that. She fills my heart on Mother’s Day with the warmest memories.

Ruth Cook is a longtime Texas Baptist. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

I have a challenge for every church and every church member who reads this.

The church I pastor has planted a vegetable garden beside the church building, because some of our church members want to learn the art of raising our own food for two reasons: 1) so we can be self-sufficient in economic hard times and 2) to understand better the Lord Jesus’ parables about good and bad soil, about wheat and tares, about planting and harvesting, and about first fruits.

Our context

I was working the church garden the other day, and I looked over the lot our church building sits on. We have almost an acre of field for a future building if needed on the north side. On the south side, we have a plot of ground maybe 20 yards by 10 yards in size. We have a good road frontage on a very busy street called Dairy Ashford.

Our church is located on a poorer side of town. Homelessness is rampant. The number of homeless who come to our church is significant.

Every day, when I am at the church, I see people in need walking in front of the church on the city sidewalk, back and forth all day. They are hot in the summer. They are cold in the winter. They are tired. They are hungry. They are poor.

They are handicapped mentally, physically and emotionally. The majority, I believe, are spiritually lost. They have no relationship with the Living God.

Bearing fruit

As I was watching them walk in front of our church property, I thought of what Jesus said in Matthew 7:20-21: “By their fruit you will recognize them. Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only he who does the will of my Father who is in heaven.”

Jesus also said in John 15:4, 16-17: “Remain in me, and I will remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me. … I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit—fruit that will last. Then the Father will give you whatever you ask in my name. This is my command: Love each other.”

By their fruit you shall know them.

I want to bear fruit. I want the church I pastor to bear fruit. I want us to be reminded daily that after giving our hearts to Jesus and being saved by him, we are to bear fruit.

We can’t bear fruit unless we love each other. We can’t love each other without action. Love is something we do, not just something we say.

The challenge

So, I asked every church family member to go and buy a fruit tree. We are planting those fruit trees along the Dairy Ashford sidewalk on our side of the property. We are planting fruit trees also in that 20 yards by 10 yards lot of land on the south side to make a little fruit tree orchard.

Each church family will look after their tree, to water it, fertilize it, prune it and make sure each bears fruit.

This will take several years of our attention, but in due time, those trees in front of our church and beside it will bear fruit—peaches, pears, plums, lemons, limes and figs, to name a few.

We can eat from those trees, but more importantly, we can invite all who are poor, all who are homeless, all who are hungry, all who are in need who walk by to come and eat at no cost the fruit our trees bear. We will be reminded weekly: We are to bear fruit for the Lord.

My challenge to you

What if every church in our nation planted fruit trees on their property? What would we be saying to this generation?

We are children of the Living God. We are abiding in the vine—the Lord Jesus Christ. We want to bear physical fruit and spiritual fruit in love. And we welcome all who are willing to come to the Lord Jesus, trading in old lives for new, preparing for heaven, where there will be plenty of fruit for all of us to eat.

As John wrote in Revelation 22:1-2: “Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, as clear as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb down the middle of the great street of the city. On each side of the river stood the tree of life, bearing twelve crops of fruit, yielding its fruit every month. And the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations.”

Will you and your church accept my challenge?

Johnny Teague is the senior pastor of Church at the Cross in West Houston and the author of several books, including his newest The Lost Diary of Mary Magdalene. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

Would you want your son or daughter to be a pastor?

Many pastors and seminary professors I know flinch at the thought, at least privately. I’ve never known that many persons, clergy or lay, who have a desire for their children to grow up to be pastors. Cowboys? Maybe. Pastors? Not so much.

My wife and I have one son who is a pastor. His journey in these early years of pastoral ministry has reinforced my sense he has been led into a magnificent calling. But it is not an easy life. It’s hard on so many levels.

I understand the reluctance parents have about a loved one entering pastoral ministry. For whatever reasons, my wife Sara and I were not among those parents.

We both grew up in homes in which pastors were revered. We both caught that reverence for pastors from our parents. Then we both answered a call to ministry in our teen years. Last year, I retired from 53 years of pastoral ministry, including full-time, part-time and interim service.

Sara had a calling before she met me. We have lived the pastoral life together, and beyond all the ups and downs, good days and bad, we relish God’s claim on our lives.

We can tell as many varied stories of the good days and rough times as most pastoral couples. But the magnificence of the pastoral life and the deep love we have for the people in our churches, and they us, resound to the depth of our being.

So, do I push back against the tendency to discourage your children and grandchildren to enter pastoral ministry? No. If your daughter or son is called to be a pastor, most will bypass your resistance to accept God’s claim on their lives to serve.

What I do push back against is the myth that the pastoral life is not to be desired. I say this, while acknowledging pastoral ministry is more difficult now than it has been in my lifetime.

Challenge of the pastorate

Most church members are aware of the effects of COVID on church life, political and cultural chaos, church conflict and denominational wars. And I haven’t even mentioned the pay. The list of current challenges confronting pastors goes on and on.

I also must acknowledge many pastors, including younger ones, are leaving congregational leadership at a rapidly increasing rate. Some, of course, are well-publicized cases of those who leave ministry due to moral or personal failure, which thankfully is a small percentage of ministers.

So, why speak well of pastoral ministry? I’ve been on a journey of carefully observing and studying the pastoral life for decades now, and my love and respect for pastors has only grown. My sense of the magnificence of this unique calling has not diminished.

Magnificence of the pastorate

Let me encourage you to look at your pastor. Just look at her or him and take note.

God personally sent that called individual to serve you and your church. In many cases, they entered years of some kind of training and education, some bringing a significant amount of educational debt along with them. They love you and your church. Most really do.

Even with their personal limitations, they bring gifts to serve and hearts that care for you. They are pastors.

When they step among you, officers of the royal court of our Lord Jesus Christ have stepped on deck.

They are in their places of service day by day, week by week, year by year. The ministry is relentless—weeks and weekends—and for most, 48 to 50 weeks a year. They serve on. To me, they are magnificent. Can’t you see it?

And pastors, join me in looking at this claim on our lives.

When we were set apart, the mantle fell on us to proclaim the good news of Jesus Christ. We took the baton to carry forward prophetic and apostolic roles.

When called to serve a church, we are privileged with the role of shepherd, serving under the Great Shepherd, stewarding the body of Christ entrusted to our care. It is an epic role, as we are entrusted with spiritual care of the precious lives entrusted to us.

The work of God’s kingdom and eternity are on the line, and we are stewarding the threshold to all God has for our sector of humankind.

Some of us may, in a season, downgrade the ministry and even default. We all are capable of such. We all are that vulnerable. Yet only by God’s claim and grace can we fulfill this formidable calling. He stands by his call. He restores us.

Going the distance

So, why did God choose someone so human, one who so often falls short, one who too often struggles under the burden, the stress, even the torment that falls on pastors? Why me? Why us?

I know the feelings that come with the recurring thought I might not be up to such a life. But then come the moments of re-commissioning, like the one Peter had at that breakfast on the beach with the risen Lord. And we serve on.

I have no criticism for those who have taken a season away from ministry. The pastoral life can be so hard, and hard on families. I stand in awe of any pastor who serves in that role for even one season of life.

Pastors, on the whole, are faithful and remarkably resilient. They go the distance because of God’s claim, his mantle and his anointing. Some have called it an “odd and wondrous calling,” to borrow the title of Lillian Daniel’s and Martin Copenhaver’s book. They are right. It is.

I’m the son of a coach. I heard my father say simply and in low tones to his exhausted players at moments in a game or in a season: “OK, men. Let’s get it done.”

I would have run through a wall for my father, as would his players. I will go the distance for my Lord Jesus. What other life would I choose but the one for which I am chosen? It’s a magnificent calling.

Ron Cook is retired from the faculty of Truett Theological Seminary at Baylor University. He also served as pastor and interim pastor in several churches. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

As you read, I encourage you to pause and read the Scripture passages cited in each subheading below.

Initial consult: Waiting (Philippians 4:6-7)

It all started gradually—the blurriness creeping in, turning my daily life into a blur.

My eyeglasses became unreliable after two long years. So, I finally decided it was time to see a new ophthalmologist.

“Cataract surgery is necessary,” he said, confirming what I expected.

Hearing those words felt like a stark realization I was indeed aging.

With the doctor’s instructions in hand, I braced myself for a prolonged wait. Insurance hurdles, paperwork, appointments and unexpected heart tests dragged the process out much longer than I anticipated.

As I waited for the final OK for surgery, it struck me how waiting on God felt similar.

“His timing is perfect,” even when the delays stir up anxiety.

Surgery readiness: Time to prep (Proverbs 24:27a)

Two days before my surgery, the home prep began. It included eye drops, eyelid wipes and pages of instructions.

The real challenge hit me on those two days before surgery when I had to give up coffee. Two days without my beloved caffeine felt like pure torture. I scraped by with sheer willpower. Well—perhaps to sound more biblical—maybe it was a bit of self-control.

When I thought it couldn’t get any tougher, “the doctor’s rules” added salt to the wound: No eye makeup for two days before surgery. Seriously! No lipstick was an even tougher pill to swallow. Lipstick is practically part of my identity.

But finally, one day, I found myself walking into the surgery center totally exposed—sweats on, makeup-free and no lipstick in sight. I dreamed about sneaking in with a touch of foundation, but nope, the surgery rules demanded a complete surrender.

Here’s the lesson I had to learn: Sometimes you have to give up what you desire, even if it’s just temporary.

God asks us to come to him “just as we are,” not in perfection, but wrapped in humility. It’s uncomfortable, yet that’s when we understand our true identity isn’t in our appearances but in who we are in Christ.

Pre-op consult: Yield to the process (1 Peter 2:13)

What we value says a lot about us. I truly value my eyesight.

At the surgical center, a medical bracelet was slapped on my wrist, but only after my husband handled our financial commitments. Makes perfect sense.

During the doctor’s consult before my surgery, I told my surgeon: “I love to read. So, do a good job.”

I could hear a man in the next cubicle being prayed over before his surgery, and I had a longing for the same.

I asked my nurse and doctor who was praying for that gentleman. The nurse said it wasn’t her. The doctor said it wasn’t him.

So, I told them, “I guess that means I need to pray for myself.”

So, I did. Though my husband already had lifted my surgery up in prayer, I still wanted more prayers. I wasn’t afraid of the surgery itself. I just worried about the changes awaiting me if the outcome wasn’t what I envisioned for myself. Oh, me of little faith.

After my chat with God, I made up my mind to release control, putting my trust in my nurse, doctor and anesthesiologist to do the right thing.

It took me back to the moment I accepted Christ—when I stopped trying to fix everything myself and I learned to trust in the grace he freely gave to me. What a special day it was—when the Holy Spirit first led me to believe in Christ with my whole heart.

During surgery (Philippians 3:13)

No recollection, which was a good thing.

Post-op instructions (Hebrews 5:8)

“Keep the eye patch on.”

Easy.

“Use the drops four times a day.”

Feasible.

“Don’t lift anything heavy.”

No problem.

“Don’t bend over.”

A struggle.

Every step mattered for healing. Ignoring the doctor’s instructions could jeopardize, not just my eyesight, but also the ministry the Lord graciously has given me. Staying faithful to the end means continuous obedience. God’s word is our map, and his commands protect and keep us on track.

Post surgery: Persevere to the very end (James 1:17)

On the drive home, my woozy post-anesthesia chatter and nonsensical thoughts entertained my husband, but all I could think about was coffee.

I already had told him our first stop after my surgery would be McDonald’s for some coffee. Oh, what pure joy I encountered as we drove away from the drive-thru. I truly felt God’s favor was upon me at that moment.

Recovery (Psalm 62:1)

Upon arriving home, I sat by our large glass window overlooking our backyard. I began to reflect on everything I had learned. I glanced at the peaceful view—the trees swaying in the wind, the water rippling at their banks and the breeze whispered through the air. The world was moving, yet I was forced to be still.

How often does God ask us to slow down, look ahead and truly see his creation, his presence, his gentle leading frequently unnoticed in our rush. Probably more than we would like to admit.

Concluding reflections (Jeremiah 29:11)

Just like that first post-surgery cup of coffee, God provides what we need at the perfect time.

When I finally can wear lipstick again, I will be in “hog heaven”—a state of utter bliss and contentment. Still, even then, I know genuine renewal isn’t in the color of my lips, but in the clarity of my vision, both physically and spiritually.

It is always good to follow Christ and to remind ourselves not to boast about tomorrow, for we do not know what it will bring. We must trust and obey and “fix our eyes on him.” When we do that, our spiritual vision becomes unclouded and clearer.

After we have encountered something once, we are better equipped for the next go around, and that thought makes me less anxious about my second cataract surgery next week.

Patti Greene is a graduate of Baylor University and Dallas Baptist University, a member of Second Baptist Church in Houston and the author of seven books. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.